Short stories

Friday, 20 January 2017

Gap year in Australia? What! (Part two)

This is a recent pic of our campsite (La Sirene) - where are the tents?

To say I remember every detail would be a lie. I can’t remember the exact timing or the
order of what Carol (I shall call her Carol because she said I should) and I
had to do to make the trip happen.

We were lucky. The
three month stay in France was a course requirement. I doubt whether I would have even thought of it had it not
been. University itself was a joy. I could happily have stayed there
forever. I had worked in London as a
secretary and knew the taste of defeat and deadly routine.

University was about opportunity. A chance to add layers to my worth as a thinking human
being. To learn and to excel. And to waste copious amounts of time.

France was just the jewel in the crown. And with my best friend – who could ask for
more?

At the time, I had a room in Horwood hall at Keele
University – a beautiful place with its own lakes and swans and gothic building
(where I studied English Literature).

What was it like?

What was I like?

It’s difficult to really pin any of this down. But I shall try.

I have pictures from around that time. I wore floral summer dresses and strappy
sandals. My hair was, as you can see
from the first post, long and blond.
Not naturally blond, but not yet ruined. I favoured a fringe, little makeup, and went to yoga classes at
the gym.

I adored the sun and there was precious little of it at
Keele or in Shropshire. So, a trip to
France would sort out the summer months.
I wouldn’t have to spend it on top of a mountain in Wales, where my
father ran the accommodation and catering for The Midland Gliding Club. Hooray.

Carol and I ate rice pudding and jam and talked about where
we should head for. What I remember
most was the never-ending gush of possibilties. And the fact that we and only we would be deciding which ones to
choose.

It was easy in the end.
The South of France was irresistible as a destination. I had already been to St. Tropez on a
fortnight’s camping trip with my boyfriend.

Is that the way it works?

You think you are being original and daring, but you are
simply opting for a bit more of what you have already experienced?

Neither of us had any knowledge of the glamorous venues all
along the Mediterranean coast. They
were just names on a map. St. Tropez
had yachts and street artists. Bars and
music. It was a place where film stars
and pop singers spent their hols. Sting
might even be there.

We bought our InterRail tickets and set off one day in late
June with a vague idea of where we might end up.

And, this is the point.
Excitement and adventure, at least for me, had to have a huge random
element.

I was beginning, reluctantly, to understand my son’s dream
of a gap year in Australia. Only
beginning. I still thought it would
probably not happen. There were, there
are, so many ways it could fall through, or at least be postponed...

He would have to save an enormous amount of money, which
meant, means, he would, will, have to find a job here in France. And he’s only seventeen. Surely he’ll have to wait until he’s
eighteen to earn money? After all, this
is France – the land of rules and regulations.

I was still convincing myself that he would decide not to
go. Or that something would stop him.

I felt mean. But
worry and fear still had me gripped.

I would have to rejoin the Bev that didn’t care about danger
or insect bites or flooded tents or insurance, or anything much at all except
being truly alive and kicking.

The Bev that arrived at a campsite in Argeles-sur-mer with a
rucksack on her back and no idea of having to book a pitch in high season.

About Bev

My name is Bev and I live in SW France in a crumbly old house with a husband who’s keen on renovation, two kids who are going through the French education system (arrrgh), no dogs and no cats.
Bunny on a Bike is not my first book, but it is the first book to be put out into the world. Writing Bunny on a Bike was something I enjoyed doing, (my son is currently asking me whether I like bagels – distracting, in a random kind of way), because it was nice to remember all the ridiculous adventures I had in London and try to recall what it felt like to be young and ready to try anything.
I hope that people who read it will laugh a lot and feel uplifted. That would be wonderful. You can have a look on Amazon Kindle if you would like to.
If you want to get more of an idea of the tone of the book then I suggest you have a look at some of the posts on this blog.
I have since published two mysteries and a prequel to Bunny on a Bike. I will publish my next book (suspense) next week (Oct 2013). All are listed on my blog.
Thanks for visiting my page and I hope you find something you like.